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mir ART OF 
MARTIN BAER 
GEORGE BAER 


Per rekon LAT DON SB Y 


Ciel BULLIET 

CHARLES FEGDAL 

GEORGES REMON 
PIERRE VERY 


PUREE See Die-BY 


Phe wHOUSE GALLERIES 
11 EAST 57TH STREET, NEW YORK 


Pomew hole, TH STREET 484 NORTH KINGSHIGH WAY 
EOS ANGELES SAINT COUTTS 


1928 


mere paAeR BROTHERS IN THE 
Poe RNATIONAL EYE 
By C. J. BuLLIET 


QUALLY AT HOME in Munich, Paris, North Africa, 
and their native Chicago, Martin and George Baer 
have attained an international outlook and ease 


in painting, difficult apparently, for our American artists 
to achieve. 


Paris is the mighty maelstrom toward which the artists 
of all the world have gravitated for the past century. The 
Spaniard, Picasso, becomes as mucha Parisian as the French- 
man Matisse, and so does the Italian, Modigliani, and 
the Dutchman, Van Gogh. The English do not readily 
assimilate, nor do Americans—for instance, Whistler and 
Sargent. They participate without becoming integrally 
apart. 


Martin and George Baer are violating the rule. Asso- 
ciated with the group that looked to the late Modigliani 
for leadership, these two Chicago young men have caught 
the international spirit—the spirit that makes contem- 
porary Parisian art the brilliant manifestation of world 
achievement. 


The Baer brothers have evolved something that is 
recognized in France and America as distinctively “Baer.” 
It is easy to trace their idols and enthusiasms—Cezanne, 
El Greco, Cranach, and more lately, Kokoschka. Traces 
of them all can be discovered in their canvases. 


But all such influences are offset by the “Baer” motif— 
the something that is distinctively their own, that springs 
out of their inner consciousness and is readily recognizable 
in everything they paint. 


Important galleries like the Paris establishment of Du- 
rand-Ruel and the Galerie Jeune Peinture, have thought 
so well of this “Baer” manifestation as to stage exhibitions 
of their work. 


The Baers are the sons of Leopold Baer of Chicago, and 
it was his faith in them that enabled them to study in 
the best ateliers of Munich and Paris, and later plunge 
into the outskirts of the Sahara desert in North Africa, 
where they did the first series of paintings that brought 
them into the international eye. It was these canvases 
that Durand-Ruel exhibited in the spring of 1926, and that 
were brought later to America, and shown at the Art 
Institute of Chicago. 


Nearly everything the brothers had painted were sold 
in these two shows, and with the proceeds they went 
back to the Sahara desert, where they did a second series, 
accepted by the Galerie Jeune Peinture, Paris, for exhi- 
bition in May, 1928, and later brought to America for a 
—trans-continental tour. 


_ The brothers found the Algerians as much to their 
artistic liking as Gauguin found the Tahitians. They 
looked upon them with a lively, leavening curiosity, and 
transferred them quivering to their canvases—the dancing 
girls, swaying to barbaric music; the camel drivers, ready 


to start for their long journeys across the Sahara; street 
vendors, beggars, women of the African demi-monde, and 
even exalted ladies of the Moslem aristocracy. Often 
they had to use much tact to secure their models, owing 
to Mohammed’s prohibition, still respected if not always 
obeyed, against the portraying of the human face and 
body—an offshoot of the old Mosaic commandment against 
the making of “graven images.” 


The Baers had their early training in “Impressionism,” 
and their work in Munich was expert in the method of 
the reigning “academy.” It was after they went to Paris 
and became associated with the young group around 
Modigliani that they sensed the new freedom. Their 
German ancestry and their Munich training had given 
them a Germanic background which they have been wise 
in not wholly sacrificing—in their work persists the idol- 
atry for Cranach, and when they came only recently to 
see the light as manifested in Kokoschka, this German 
strain was found to fit. 


Still in the early enthusiasm of youth, these brothers 
give promise of great things. Already their achievement 
has been notable, and it is gratifying to observe a marked 
improvement in the 1928 canvases over those of 1926—a 
loosening up of their technique, and a greater spontaneity 
in spirit. 

The Baers are remarkable in their artistic twinship. 
Constantly together, they react on each other, and their 
painting shows twin progress. They resemble, in this re- 
spect, those literary brothers, the Goncourts. 


BY CHARLES PEGDAL, Parisstyaee 


EVOTED TO THE same field of research and both pur- 

suing an identic artistic ideal, Martin and George 

Baer are inevitably conjoined in our thought and 
in our study of their singular productions. 


When I saw their paintings, some two years ago, I 
was immediately impressed by their originality, force, and 
finesse. They were specially marked by the expressionist 
influence, and its more profound understandings, a tend- 
ency traceable, perhaps, to a loyal admiration for the great 
Delacroix. 


But, besides, their canvases gave us a kind of new and 
thrilling contrast between the gaiety of their coloring as 
such and their peculiarly melancholy character, a sadness 
of hushed harmonies, a sense of something muted, throttled, 
““étouffé.”” 

But George and Martin Baer, despite their successes 
at the Galerie Durand-Ruel and at the Galerie Jeune 
Peinture, were still experimenters, questing farther goals 
with eagerness, tenacity and a confidence at once firm 
and teachable. 

Ah, how difficult it is for Man, the lord of creation, 
to be truly humble in confronting Nature; to observe her, 
to contemplate her moods, and to love her for herself, ban- 
ishing all pride of dominion and domination. Yet, if one 
can attain this state of simplicity and serenity, then the 
more than human—the supernal—truth that is in Mother 
Earth reveals itself, reflects in that corner of the canvas 
that springs to life, the so familiar gesture, the vibrations 


of tremulous light, the very continuity of movement, the 
RaUIeMtestir ol air... ;.., 


Animated by this truth-seeking spirit, George and Mar- 
tin Baer came at length to understand that painting is 
first of all an art of joy; that even a macabre scene, though 
sad in theme, may be rendered with pictorial vivacity and 
inner happiness. 


Accordingly, little by little the palette of the Baers, 
without itself changing, transformed the aspect of their 
works. Not a revolution, but an evolution. They give 
now to their canvases, whatever the given situation, the 
object, the figure or landscape, an atmosphere which com- 
municates a palpitating vitality, they have learned to put 
there something better than a mind wounded or restless, 
they begin to bring to it a steadfast soul. 


A true work of art must ever serve as a window giving 
the beholder an outlook upon an imaginary world, the 
“Réve.” This dream world is only possible for the spec- 
tator if the artist creates in him a real emotion, gives him 
a portion of his own heart. And it is thus that those 
earnest painters, the brothers Baer, out of the pangs of 
their creative labor, come to communicate at last to their 
pictures a vital spark which will grow ever more heart- 
warming and luminous, because it is one with that “divine 
fire’’ common to all veritable artists the world over—the 
sincere humility of the lover of life. 


CHARLES FEGDAL, Paris, 1928 


Translated from French 
by Jeanne S. de LaBarthe 


GEORGES REMON, Paris, France 


Ss ONE who for many years has followed the 
brothers Baer with an interest which has never 
wavered, I consider it a great privilege and 

pleasure to write this little chapter, which I shall title 
—"George and Martin Baer, 1928.” 


And, now that I am about to summarize, George and 
Martin, what I think of your paintings that you are carry- 
ing away from France to America, I cannot help but think, 
with a queer insistence, of that distant day when, at the 
time of your first exhibition in Paris, (at Durand-Ruel) 
I was confronted with the work—doubleand yet so unified! 
—the most unexpected that one could imagine. 


As you may see, I have kept a perfect vision of it. And 
it is entirely probable that if I had to write about it again, 
I would do so in the same way, using the very same terms. 


At any rate, I still keep a vivid remembrance of my 
marveling surprise in viewing those pages, rugged some- 
‘times to the point of rudeness, and again to the contrary, 
wonderfully harmonious, where you praise this Northern 
Africa that so few Frenchmen know, not suspecting the 
male magnitude and portentous majesty of those Moroccan 
scenes and of the South of Algeria, nor the delicious 
lyricism that you have discovered there after so many 
repeated and extended sojourns. 


What caprice of destiny, what surprising inhumanity, 
or rather what inexplicable attraction lead you to those 
hills rocky and burnt, and these precarious oases which 


no one before you has described with so much picturesque- 
ness and poetry? 


With what a wonderful tenderness have you surrounded 
the natives, whom you have made your familiar models 
and your friends, types of Arabs and of Berberes, strongly 
accentuated, but always astonishing in their verity. No 
one among our best orientalists has felt and seen as have 
you, what unreality the skies of these countries contribute 
so often by reason of their starved and suffocating air. 


You make us wonder then what a Gustav Moreau would 
have painted in those regions, providing their savage as- 
pect did not shock him. 


And what you expounded at that time showed such 
clearness of lines, such a frankness of inspiration, that one 
could almost wish that there your effort had stopped. The 
critic found there already such extensive and rich material 
that he could dilate endlessly upon the charms of your 
exciting discoveries. 


Add to this the wonderful meeting of your two brotherly 
geniuses, so much alike in their modes of expression that, 
though experts studied carefully your canvases, as though 
comparing the paintings, say, of two primitives, wise would 
be the one who could not be caught—confusing the work 
of one with the other. 


Since then you have varied and broadened your style, 
you have on both sides of the Atlantic carried away won- 
derful honors. But till lately, it seems to me that you 
tried to modify deeply neither your vision nor your general 


method, limiting yourself only to acquiring new qualities 
of execution, a palette always more rare and more personal. 


Then at length of a certainty, and for each one of you, 
came the decisive moment that occurs in the career of every 
painter in love with his art, when, trying to get away 
from his too familiar self, aspiring to explore regions wider 
and less known, he imposes brusquely upon himself the 
most severe discipline in order to affirm himself better. 


Another observation which will strike those who know 
you as well as I do: now, without being able to 
remark between you the least disagreement, for the first 
time you are taking entirely different roads. 


Your latest creations betray the same anxiety, the rea- 
son for which is not hard to seek. 


Both of you, without claiming any school in particular, 
without yielding to any easy modes or to factional influ- 
ences which rule passionately in our cosmopolitan Paris— 
both of you have felt the charms and the magic spells of 
the luminous skies of France. Whereupon your palettes 
became more vibrating and more “chatoyante.” 


Whither will you be led by those researches of which I 
perceive the stirring sincerity and of which I guess the 
splendid promises? 


You will not be the first ones to whom our country will 
have given the graceful gift of its sumptuous vision, and 
if, as everything leads me to hope, you keep this romanti- 
cism ardent and ingenious which so seduced us in your 
youthful productions, while adding to it your precious 


gifts as mature colorists, you will have accomplished what 
has become very rare at this time—a work of a large and 


splendid understanding. 
Grorces REMON 


Attaché a la conservation des 
musees Galliera et Carnavalet 


Translated from French 
by Jeanne S. de LaBarthe 


PIERRE VERY, Paris, Prange 


WILL RECALL how I renewed acquaintance with the 

brothers Baer. It happened this time in the narrow 

street Jacques-Callot, formerly so somber but now 
blossoming with art. Passing the window of that small but 
valiant gallery of the ““Jeune Peinture,” the “Tisserand 
de Corbeilles,” wrought by George Baer, halted my 
attention. 


In August, 1926, the two brothers had exhibited about 
fifty paintings at the Durand-Ruel Gallery in Paris. These 
were the fruit of many years of consistent effort expended 
in Africa. In “homme Libre,’ Monsieur Tremeur had 
then expressed a very high esteem for the work of these 
two artists. 


Said he: “It will not be long until these two men, fully 
armed in point of technical command and possessing a 
clear vision of their potentialities and objectives, will be 
ranked among the best painters.” 


Time has proven Tremeur a true prophet. The hour 
of mastery for the brothers Baer is no longer a matter 
of remote speculation or of promise only. For, in a number 
of canvases, particularly in the ““Chleux” and the “Place 
des Chameaux,” those two outstanding features of the 
exhibition, may we not say that they have already touched 
the heights? 


Clearly, it has not been in vain that those two Ameri- 
cans, whom an imperious call summoned from normal 
occupations and tore from their family circle, have followed 


the beckoning of the mirages of ancient and yet young 


Africa. 


Like that woman of whom Louis Bertrand speaks, they 
were fated ever to turn back, spell-bound, as they would 
retreat across the frontier of sands. 


Such is the sorcery of the lands of the sun; whoever 
has once hearkened to their incantation shall never hence- 
forth escape their enchantment. 


And now George and Martin Baer have again visited 
us. We have before us their second exhibition. It shows 
talents which have gained notably in dignity and sheer 
power. 


Let another speak understandingly of the luminous qual- 
ity, the thematic richness of this painting, let him praise 
this happy wedding of inter-playing light and shadow, 
and this assured technique with which the Baers dispose 
the elements of their pictures so as to establish a subtle 
hierarchy. Critic of art, I hear your conclusion; I applaud 
it. The brothers Baer of yesteryear and today, have con- 
vinced us abundantly and beyond dispute, that they have 
in them the qualities of real masters: standing before some 
of their canvases which would honor a museum, the word 
‘‘chef-d’oeuvre” comes naturally to our lips. 

But those few words said, have we said enough? The 
conventional critic visits the current exhibitions, runs his 
eye along walls more or less happily decorated, passing 
quickly here, there stopping to meditate a moment; then 
hurriedly back home, rushing to put his impressions into 
print whilst they are still news of the day—will the hack- 


neyed phrases that come to him thus hastily suffice always 
to express what he has felt? Poor words, dull, cold and 
dry, like so many insects. 


“Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se repondent.” 
Yes, the perfumes, colors and sounds find a common lan- 
guage. Many times, before knowing the famous verse, 
and very often since, I have thought that between one’s 
soul and the memory of a stirring picture, music is un- 
doubtedly the best interlocutor. Landscape, torrid or 
frozen, stormy or somnolent, exuberant tropical vision, or 
dark sky of “Ile de France,” there is not an aspect of the 
world indeed that music cannot reconstitute for our inner 
sense. Whether for sorrow or joy, the sounds and the 
colors, I verily believe, wield the same incomparable power 
over our shadowy world of dreams. “Fatma,” “La Danse 
du Sang,” “L’entree du Khalifat du Pacha Sidi Tazi,” 
“Chez les Chleux,” ‘Sous la tente.”” What harmonics will 
be attuned to recall those episodes of a legendary land 
and life? Strumming of the Dherbouka—thin sound of the 
flutes, and that unappeasable metallic tinkling of the anklets 
of the women. . . . All the wild imaginings of our fan- 
tastic childhood flood back to us, to tell us again they did 
not lie. 


In 1926, Tremeur found in Baer’s works a resurgence 
of Giotto, of Tintoretto, of Greco. Ah! Monsieur Tre- 
meur, it is with delight that I say to you today, the Baers 
are the Baers simply—fraternal as to their technique, but 
different and wholly individual as to the soul. 


Yet, whether we speak of Martin, the more preoccupied 


with passion, or of George, who seems to apply himself 
in his impassiveness and his ruses to report the character 
of a fatalist race, in contradistinction to the former, who 
delineates rather the universal heart, throughout the work 
of the two brothers it is always Africa that is expounded— 
moreover, it is always the South such as our dreams have 
limned it. Let us not defend ourselves. Let us yield to 
the magic which entices us. Let us allow the seas to mix, 
the continents to wander where they list. Transported 
with the speed of the lightning, as by some flying carpet, 
let us course back to those happy times when our tender 
years were satisfied with geographic notions the most 
confused. 


All the gold, all the blood, all the garish and gorgeous 
colors of Arabia, these Baers, merchants in magic, a 
out for us from their treasure box. 


Have we been asleep and are we still dreaming? Are 
we in the palace of Haroun al Raschid, or in the cave of 
Ali Baba? In those cool rooms lighted only by the pompous 
hues of stained windows, where are aligned those thou- 
sands and thousands of vases, miraculously upturned of 
a sudden, shall we see coming out thieves or princesses? 


Studying the least developed of the Baer canvases, no 
less than in confronting the most finished—whether we 
behold this encampment of nomads resigned and tricky, 
painted by George, or this “Place des Chameaux,” or be 
it that picture of Martin, charged with sensuousness and 
with melancholy, with its graceful image of a young girl 
in the foreground, we recognize always Africa, Arabia, 


Persia. In a word, the Orient! (O word of Poetry! The 
Orient of the heart) and we listen—may we not almost 
hear it? We listen to the voice hollow and mysterious 


which calls. 
PirrRE VERY 


Translated from French 
by Jeanne S. de LaBarthe 


MARTIN BAER 


““LES CHLEUX 

COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


“PAYSAGESD. UNE, OASIS? 

LAGHOUAT, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF THE EASTMAN MEMORIAL FOUNDA- 
TION, LAUREL, MISS. 

DONOR ADOLPH KARPEN 


*“FEMMES MOROCAINES SUR LA TERRASSE 
FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


“CARAVANE EN REPOS 
COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 
MARTIN BAER 


COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


& 


THS CHLEUX 
FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 
MARTIN BAER 
COLLECTION OF MR. 


FREGSSENGE, 


PARIS, 


FRANCE 


““TA DANSE ARABE™ 

AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


"SUR. LAUROUTE DU CRSA” 

COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


COLLECTION 


9 


“PORTRAIT D'UNE DJICH’ 
COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 
MARTIN BAER 

GALERIE JEUNE PEINTURE, PARIS 


c 


“KHADIDJA 

ORAN, AFRIQUE 
MARTIN BAER 
COLLECTION OF MR. 


FREGSSENGE, PARIS, 


FRANCE 


SOUS LA TENTE D UNE FAMILLE BERBER 


BENI-OUNIE, 
MARTIN BAER 


ome PCLTION ~<OF “MR. MEYER, 


PARIS, 


AFRIQUE 


FRANCE 


66 39 

LES BERGERS 

LAGHOUAT, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF OSHKOSH PUBLIC MUSEUM, OSHKOSH, 
WISCONSIN 

DONOR, ADOLPH KARPEN 


MATCHAGET SSA HTLISE 

COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF JOHN F. BRAUN, MERION, PA. 


“NACKLA ET YAMINA 

ORAN, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF CHARLES FEGDAL, PARIS, FRANCE 


“NUS. DANS LELBOIS.. 

MARCILLY-SUR’-SEINE, FRANCE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


5 


ORL He 
FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF FRANK CAMBRIA, NEW YORK 


“PORTRAIT DUNE FEMME ARABE™ 
LAGHOUAT, AFRIQUE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF THE PARAMOUNT THEATRE, 
NEW YORK 


6 


‘PORTRAIT D’ UN COMPOSITEUR 
MUNICH, ALLEMAGNE 

MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF INEZ CUNNINGHAM, CHICAGO, ILL. 


66 


THE CATD:» AMAR’ BELKASSEM | 
COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 
MARTIN BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


GEORGE. BAER 


5 


“PLACE DES CHAMEAUX 

COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


6 


‘LES CHAMEAUX 

LAGHOUAT, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF SEARS. ACADEMY OF FINE ARTS, 
ELGIND TEE 

DONOR, ADOLPH KARPEN 


6 


DAC’ VEN DEUSEMD. UmeP Aline 
FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 
GEORGE BAER 
COLLECTION -OF ‘THE PARAMOUNT =THEA TRE, 
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK 


66 


UN MOKHAZENI 
COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 
GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF JOHN PF. 


BRAUN, MERION, 


PAS 


IRASA G Re 

RECLOSES, FRANCE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF) SHELDON DICK, .CHICAGO. “Il. 


““MINOOSH 

FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


“DORTRAIT D’UNE FEMME ARABE™ 
LAGHOUAT, AFRIQUE 
GEORGE BAER 


COLLECTION OF WILLIAM L. HUSTON, CHICAGO. ILE: 


FATMA 

COLOMB’BECHAR, AFRIQUE 
GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION “OF LE GALERIE Seine 


PEINTURE, 


PARIS 


BASHIR 

COLOMB’-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE BAER 

Some EOCriION OF LE GALERIE JEUNE PEINTURE, PARIS 


MASOUBA 

COLOMB-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE: BAER 

COLLECTION OF LE GALERIE JEUNE PERN ee 


PARIS 


FEMME SISRACE LITE DEO PAT ACE. 
COLOMB’-BECHAR, AFRIQUE 
GEORGE BAER 


COLrRCECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES; NEW. YORK 


““ABELKADER 

FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF NEWHOUSE GALLERIES, NEW YORK 


“TE “BISSERAND DES: CORB EIDE. 

FEZ-MAROC, AFRIQUE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF LE GALERIE JEUNE PEINTURE, PARIS 


“L°ENTREE DU KHALIFAT DU PACHA, S1Di spams 


FEZ"-MAROC, APRIOUE 
GBORGE BAER 
COLLECTION: “OF CHARLES PEGDA 


PARIS, FRANCE 


-JEUNEY FILLE, AVEC JANE, 

CAGNES-SUR-MER, FRANCE 

GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF FRANK D. LAHVIC, CHICAGO, ILL. 


” 


*“FEMMES MAURES AU TRAVAIL 
LAGHOUAT, AFRIQUE 7 
GEORGE BAER 

COLLECTION OF WICHITA ART ASSOCIATION, 
WICHITA, KANSAS 

DONOR, ADOLPH KARPEN 


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